


Running On Empty

by C130



Category: Cars (Movies), Planes (Movies)
Genre: Call When Need, Fighfighting, Gen, Lead Plane, Level 5, Radiator Springs, Red needs more love, Rescue
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-01
Updated: 2018-06-03
Packaged: 2018-11-22 02:38:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11370837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/C130/pseuds/C130
Summary: A wet spring, hotter than normal summer, and hot-dry winds have combined to create explosive fire risk in the Southwestern United States. Small towns are at particular risk and Radiator Springs is no exception. With many of the residences refusing to evacuate to safer ground, additional firefighters are called in to help face down the flames and keep everyone safe.





	1. Sparks

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, welcome to my first attempt at a cars/planes crossover! I technically started writing the piece back in February but decided to make this story my project for the July NaNoWriMo camp. A quick disclaimer. I do not own any part of the Cars universe. Also, this story has been betaed by Thelaterrose99 and is cross-posted with fanfiction.net. Well, now that the nitty gritty stuff has been taken care off let's jump into the story.

Red was stressed. He wasn’t complaining, honestly the quint rarely said anything, but the Sheriff had worked long enough with the fire truck to know when trouble was on the horizon. Right now the town’s gentle giant was staring up at the darkening sky, his side mirrors slightly quivering.

“Do you think that we will get rain with this storm?” Sheriff asked, already knowing the answer. The July weather had been hotter than normal and it was causing the air to be painfully dry. Unless that storm was a dozy, the moisture was going to be sucked right out of those raindrops before they made it anywhere close to the ground. In some ways, no rain was a good thing. A cloud burst brought the very real risk of flash flooding, but with the desert around them dry as tinder it looked like fire verse flood was going to be the problem of the day.

The look that Red was giving him indicated that the truck was having similar thoughts. The Sheriff could almost see the gears in Red’s mind clicking over has the fire apparatuses clicked through his internal emergency protocol list. While many people who didn’t live in town tended to view Red as being a bit simple, the police vehicle knew that couldn’t be farther from the truth. Red may have his faults, but the truck was fiercely loyal and a ferocious reader. The quint made sure to keep up on the cutting end information when it came to firefighting, he trained his volunteer firefighters well, and no one here doubted that truck was willing to put his life on the line in order to keep the town of Radiator Springs and its residence safe.

Perhaps, he was even too willing, the Sheriff mused quietly to himself as he stared up at the blossoming thunder clouds on the horizon. But then, Sheriff knew the oath that the two of them had taken…to protect their little slice of paradise from danger…and the old car could help but feel deep down in his engine that there were some things worth dying for.

* * *

Gathered at Flo’s, the various members of Radiator Springs were also staring at the rapidly approaching dark smudge with agitated concern. Except for town’s newest resident, he…well, he didn’t appear to be picking up the signals.

“Looks like there is a storm coming our way.” The red race car said thoughtfully, before breaking into a grin. “Think there will be lightening.”

“You better hope not…lightening isn’t something to laugh about here.” Sally commented softly between sips of oil.

Apparently the Porsche’s words managed to finally knock some sense into McQueen because he started to finally pay attention to the nervous vibe that all the residences were giving off. “But want about rain. Isn’t the rain coming from that storm good?”

“Only if it comes, soldier, only if it comes.” It was the old Sarge’s turn to throw in his two cents. “Well troops, it is time to get everything locked down for battle.”

“Battle?” Lighting asked as he watched all the various cars in town head towards their homes and businesses.

“Locking everything down and stuff.” Mater have a shrug with his tow cable. “With that type of thunderstorms, it is not unusual to have allsorts of big winds to worry about so it doesn’t hurt to tie down things that could blow away loose or move that kind of stuff inside.”

Lightning McQueen really didn’t understand the gravity of the situation, but he had enough common sense to recognize when his fellow vehicles were spooked. Since Guido and the Sherriff were already helping Lizzie get all of here ‘antiques’ packed back into her shop, the race car decided to help Sally bring in the cones and planters around the hotel instead. It was hard work, but the two vehicles managed to get everything inside the cone that Sally reserved for storage. The task was completed not a moment too soon. Only minutes after the last cone was successfully tucked away and all the doors to the rooms had been shut tight a howling wind screamed across the desert and Lightning was grateful that he could head indoors to avoid it.

* * *

 

The line of thunderstorms was a violent one. Lightning flashed in the hills around Radiator Springs and thunder shook the pavement under their tires. Then there was the wind…a bone dry wind that picked up the desert sand and howled through town. The grit the gale carried was what finally forced the residents to take shelter deep within their homes, knowing full well how quickly even a minor sandstorm could strip the paint and scar the windows of an unprotected car. The town residence pitied any vehicle that had been stuck on the highway when the wind picked up.

Still, it wasn’t until the next morning that the true impact of the rainless storm became more evident. Smoke was billowing on the horizon, and there was nothing that Radiator Springs’ single road bound fire engine could do about it.

 


	2. Chapter 2- Called To Duty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With things getting worse at Radiator Springs and the fire season elsewhere also turning into an inferno, firefighting teams from across the continent are called up to fight the flames. A number of 'Call When Needed' air resources are mobilized, including a certain air racer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again, welcome to the next chapter of 'Running on Empty.' The fire is smoldering and now it is time to get all of the characters in place. As a result there is a lot of movement in the chapter, but the action really starts in the next one. Regardless, I hope that you will enjoy it. Oh, and once again, a huge thanks to TheLaterose99 for taking the time out of her busy summer to beta this chapter. As well as a huge thanks for everyone who left a review. Both mean a lot.

_**Chapter 2** _ _\- Call to Duty_

* * *

While there were many things that were important in Dusty Crophopper's life, this is what truly made him feel alive. The grass below him was streaking past as he hurtled towards the last air gate. Even as he sailed through it, Dusty banked and the gusts that had been screaming in his face just moments before were now tailwind pushing him towards victory. He was in the last stretch, coming in for final. The crowd was calling his name…but there was something off. The crowd wasn't that loud, and they didn't seem particularly enthusiastic about the race.

"Dusty…Dusty…"

He blinked, and the racing stadium was gone. Replaced by the dark cavern of his personal hanger. With a yawn, he settled back on his tires. The next race was on the weekend, and the town's fire alarm hadn't gone off, so there was no reason for him to be startled away. Still, it was odd for him not to finish a race, even if was one in his dreams.

"Oh come on Chug I know you can knock louder than that."

Chug…the racer's muddle brain thought the new fuel that Chug had him try must be why his sleep was unsettled.

"But he is sleeping."

"Which is exactly why we need to wake him up." Another vehicle, Mayday his brain finally supplemented, said with an annoyed clip. "Dusty! Wake up this instant!"

"What is it?" Dusty muttered still mostly asleep.

"Dusty you have been called up to fight a wildfire."

"I am not equipped to fight wildfires right now…" The racer mumbled as he let eyes drift closed again.

"Dusty, wake up now!" Mayday snapped, the old fire truck's order somehow finally cause the SEAT to wake up fully.

"What!?"

"The Interagency Fire Center just moved the alert to Level 5." Mayday explained with slow and measured patience. "All 'Call When Needed' firefighting aircraft have been activated and are to expect orders in the next 24 hours."

"But I am still not configured to fight fires right now." The racer yawned, trying to blink the sleep from his eyes as he opened his hanger door.

"Don't worry; I have already taken care of that." Chug grinned at the plane. "I woke Dot up on my way here. I believe she is already warming up her welding torch to get ready for you."

Dusty dozed as Dot switched out is landing gear and swapped his racers paint for the red, white, and black of his firefighter's livery. The modifications were completed just in time. Mayday rolled into the hanger as Dot was applying the last touches of paint to Dusty's tail number with the news that the racer was ordered to report to McCarran International Airport in Las Vegas. Pontoons on and tanks topped off, Dusty turned his nose to the west, spun up his engines, and took off just before dawn.

* * *

As far as the Sherriff could tell, the only thing that was keeping Radiator Springs from dissolving into chaos was all the training that Red had insisted that every residence participates in. Every vehicle was helping get the particularly flammable materials (primarily Flo and Fillmore's fuel supplies) locked down. Now that the risk of catastrophic explosions had been limited, Red let his siren whoop to gather the residence to the fire station. It was time to enter phase two of the town's wildfire response plan.

Sherriff glanced at the checklist that Red had nudged towards him and then glanced at the cars surrounding him trying to figure out who was going to be the best team for each task. It didn't take the police car long to start yelling out orders.

"Sarge, Fillmore."

A prompt "Yes, Sir!" was quickly followed by a "What ya need man?"

"You two are assigned to check all of the waterlines on the south side of town." Reading off next task on the list, Sherriff called out the next two names. "Ramone, Luigi. You two will be checking all the waterlines on the north side of town." The two cars gave their acknowledgments in a mixture of English and Italian before the two waterline teams headed to the outskirts of town to get their jobs done. This allowed the Sherriff to focus on the team who would be taking on the most physically challenging task. "Lightning, Mater."

"Present." The racer spoke for the two vehicles

"You will be herding the tractors to fairgrounds in Prescott to keep them safe."

"But what about Frank." Lightning asked wide eyed.

"What about him?"

"Won't he, you know, be concerned about his livestock…"

"Listen McQueen." The Sherriff sighed, knowing that this conversation was less about herding tractors and more about pass tractor tipping exploits. "While you probably should have thought about the consequences of Mater and your hobby before this moment, I can promise that Frank won't be giving you too much trouble."

"Besides," Sally added, "I suspect that he is already busily plowing up fire lines to protect the fields, so he will be too busy to chase after you."

* * *

It didn't take a firefighter to know that the burns out west must be bad. Dusty had been in the air for less than three hours, and already his filters were becoming think with ash. He hated to think how hard it would be for aircraft that didn't have the replaceable screens that Maru had given him after he had sucked hot cinders on one too many missions. The itchiness of grit in his engine alone would have driven the racer to distraction.

On second thought, as he glanced around the airspace around him, the ash probably had already grounded most aircraft. Sure, he could still spot the contrails of the big jets crossing the continent above him, but he hadn't seen a single airplane in his class flying since he left Denver four hours ago. Add the fact, the plane he had seen in Colorado had been a Beechcraft King Air 200 which also happened to be a 'Call When Needed' aircraft, Dusty suspected her air intake systems had probably also been modified take on the ash.

Despite the smoke, the racer made pretty good time over the Rocky Mountains. He was even able to land at Provo Airport before all the fledgling flyers took over the valley's shelter airspace for practice. From there Dusty caught the I-15 air corridor and headed south. The skies were still unusually quiet, but on this route, there were at least a lot of small airports to check in with along the way, and he was able to listen to the chatter of the commercial planes above him.

* * *

It had taken far longer that McQueen had expected to get the tractors herded out of their pasture and onto the road for the journey to Prescott. It had also required both the Sherriff's and Sarge's help to get the task done, which really made Lightning nervous about the upcoming journey. Apparently, it wasn't a fear that any of the Radiator Springs folks were feeling.

"Just keep them moving in the right direction, and you will be fine." The Sherriff had advised.

"It is going to be a hard day's drive, but if you get at it, you can probably be back before dark." Sarge added giving racer a nudge towards the road.

"It is the 'probably' that concerns me." McQueen admitted to both the older vehicle a somewhat nervous look. "I mean I have no experience with this type of activity, wouldn't it be better to send someone who as more practice herding tractors?"

"Come on McQueen!" Mater revved his engine and swung his tow cable towards tractors that they had herded onto the road. "Daylights a wasting!"

To everyone in the group Mater's comment seemed to be the last word. Both the Sherriff and Sarge had already made a U-turn back towards town. He really didn't feel like he was going to be able to succeed at this, so he turned to the beauty who was his last chance to get out of this road trip.

"Go on, Stickers." Sally planted a quick kiss on the racer's bumper that gave him a quick nudge towards the road. "I will be here waiting when you get back."

* * *

Even a good thousand feet above the desert surfaces, Dusty could feel the heat radiating up from the sun baked soil. It caused the atmosphere around him the boil and bubble with enough turbulent that it made staying level difficult and running on autopilot impossible. After nearly becoming motion sick from all the up and down motion, the racer was incredibly glad when I-15 turned west, and Los Vegas came into sight.

Double checking his radio frequencies Dusty called the tower at the airport he had been assigned to report to. "McCarran, McCarran, this is Tanker 7 approaching from the northeast, requesting landing. Over."

There was a long pause, the tower replied.  _"Aircraft requesting landing, please say call sign again."_

"McCarran, this is TANKER 7. Over."

" _Roger that TANKER 7. Is this approach mission critical?"_

"No…" Dusty admitted, wondering why the airport would be asking if he on a mission critical flight. He hadn't even had a chance to report into the mission base yet. Maybe it was a standard question.

" _Understood, we have a line of passenger jets coming in for final, are you capable of landing at a short runway?"_

"Short runway shouldn't be a problem." Dusty replied, while in this heat it was nice of them to offer him use of the big runway, the Air Tractor was small enough to easily use any of the four runways available.

" _Roger that. Please enter the traffic pattern. Once FRONTIER AIR Niner Fifi Niner has landed on runway 7R make a controlled approach to runway 19R."_

"Roger that. I will make a controlled approach after the Frontier Airlines flight has landed Runway 19R."

Dusty didn't have to wait very long for the commuter jet to land on the runway on the far side of the terminal. As the jet's tires kissed the tarmac, Dusty lined up for his final approach. He was about ready to call into the tower and confirm final approach when a somewhat panicked call came across the radio.

" _Unidentified Air Tractor, Unidentified Air Tractor, announce intentions and call sign immediately!"_

"I am TANKER 7! And I was just told to land on this runway." Dusty shouted back. His transmission was greeted with silence. The small plane was bracing himself to perform a touch and go landing in order to clear out of the airspace as quickly as possible.

" _TANKER 7. You are cleared for final approach."_

"Roger that." Dusty breathed a sigh of relief as he adjusted his control surfaces for the descent. "TANKER 7 is on final approach."

" _TANKER 7, when you get on the ground please get the issue with conflicting call signs corrected."_ While the vehicle in the tower remained calm during this transmission, it was pretty clear that Dusty had not made friends with the local tower…which was not a good thing when you were going to be living and working out of an airport for an unknown length of time. The situation was only made worse by the fact that the racer had absolutely no clue what he had done to piss everyone off. Then he realized that he had no clue where he was supposed to be reporting.

"Um, McCarran Tower, where are the fire fighting aircraft supposed to report?"

" _TANKER 7, please taxi to the end of the runway. An aircraft will be meeting you on the west end of the taxi way to check your credentials and give you further direction."_

"WILCO. TANKER 7, out." Dusty cleared the runway and tucked himself on the west end of the taxiway. He waited there for an uncomfortably long time and was considering testing his luck and calling the tower for further instructions, when a large shadow crossed over his wings.

"I was wondering who was using my call sign." A grumpy looking P-2 Neptune was looming over him. One glance at the big plane's tail number informed Dusty that the two planes did, in fact, have the same designation. "You better go head to hanger 19 and get things cleared up with the Air Boss, so this situation does not become more of a headache that it already has."

"Yes, Sir." Was all the smaller plane was able to squeak out before the very, large tanker gave him a final glare and trundled off.

* * *

By afternoon the residents of Radiator Springs had run through every task on the list Red had prepared for this type of emergency and the lack of anything to do was starting to bubble into stress. Flo dealt with it by trying to feed everyone, Sally by constantly changing channels on the radio in order to get additional weather updates, and the Sherriff could have sworn that Ramone had swapped his paint job at least three times in the last hour and a half.

Through all of this, there was one vehicle that was consciously missing. The Sherriff followed the tangled mess of hoses and pipes to where the community's fire apparatus had holed himself up. Red glanced up from a massive map of Radiator Springs and its surrounding area. After he had recognized that the vehicle that had interrupted his planning was the Sherriff, Red settled on his tires and turned his full attention on his old friend. The Sherriff knew from his own experience that this was one of the fire engines quiet ways of giving him space to report.

"Well, all of the valves and sprinklers have been checked, and Mater and McQueen have got the tractors on the move." The Sherriff said with a yawn. "With everything on the checklist done, I think I am going to catch a nap before things get interesting."

Red gave a nod of acknowledgment, which the Sherriff took as an okay to tap out for a couple of hours. By the time the police car had rolled back to the door the engine had once again turned his full attention on massive maps in front of him. Red was clearly trying to get some last minute planning in, but both emergency services vehicles knew that all they could really do now was wait and pray that the fire bearing down on them would change direction.

* * *

With his pontoons on, Dusty could technically call his model a Fire Boss instead of an Air Tractor…one look at the plane in front of him let the racer know he wasn't ready to grow into that title. The yellow and blue plane who was currently talking on the radio with the airports tower practically exuded control. To make the situation worse, the aircraft also had the extra wing markings indicating that he was the air boss for this situation. Dusty tried to gulp down the panic that was rising in his throat…which managed to get the attention of the Fire Boss.

"Yes." The IC did not particularly look impressed by the fact that Dusty was sitting in front of him.

"Tanker 7, Dusty Crophopper reporting as ordered." The racer managed to choke out.

"Listen Crophopper; I don't know who gave you the authorization to use a legacy call sign instead of the Zero Seven that your tail number clearly indicates, that you don't have the training to work this type of operation." The IC was staring him down, and Dusty had to literally lock his breaks to keep himself from being backed out of the hanger. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't just send you back to whatever backwater you come from."

"I can vouch for him." A voice came from just outside the hanger door. Dusty spun to see who his savior was to find a familiar twin tailed aircraft.

"And how would you know him, Jump 51?"

"Take a good look at his paint." The Cabbie dipped a wing towards the distinctive triple strip along Dusty's back. "My team trained him."

"Really?" The Fire Boss allowed his eyes to flick over Dusty in disdain. "I know that Piston Peak was known for taking the bottom of the barrel, but I didn't think that Blade's standards had sunk that low."

"Well, even you have to admit that has the build for the job."

"It is not the build that I am concerned with." The little plane was glaring Cabbie down, but the former warplane was holding his own. "It is experience that I am more concerned with. I don't have time to deal with a greenhorn SEAT who doesn't have the hours to fly a mission solo."

"Then partner him with me." Cabbie suggested without even missing a beat.

"What?" Both Air Tractors blurted out.

"You said yourself that he isn't seasoned enough to go on solo firefighting missions, and I have been asking for a lead plane since I got here."

"I have seen your files; you never use a lead plane when you fly out of Piston Peak."

At that comment the C-119 gave a harsh barking laugh. "Now Sawyer, you have been around long enough to know the types of slashes that happened to our budget. Even if I wanted I spotter, we couldn't afford to hire one, and you well know anyone who fly a park as long as I have isn't required to have a spotter." Then Cabbie looked down his nose at the Fire Boss. "But you also know that this area of the United States isn't my stomping ground and I would be able to get my mission done a lot more effectively if I had a lead plane to act as a spotter. As your only cargo plane here and one of three planes on base who is cleared to fly at night, wouldn't it make sense to partner me with the only small plane who is certified to fly low level night approaches?"

"Fine." The Air Tractor in command gave in, even though he clearly didn't approve of the situation. "But if that kid flies you into a cliff you will have no one to blame but yourself."

"Rodger that."

"Well now that that has been taken care of, get out of my command center." The IC glared up at the big plane, and the C-119 didn't need to be told twice. Cabbie gave a quick quarter turn of his propeller in reply and then began to physically shove Dusty out of the hanger.

"What was that all about?" Dusty bit off sarcastically as soon as they were outside of earshot of the air bosses hanger. The plane was expecting some sympathy from the older plane, what he got instead was 20 tons of less than pleased aircraft looming over him.

"You will never, ever speak like that to an Air Boss again." The C-119's flaps were up, and he was giving his 'pissed off drill sergeant' instead of his normal 'grumpy uncle' vibe as he confronted the smaller plane on the tarmac. "Am I understood?"

"Yes, sir." Dusty stammered out not sure what else to say, but that was apparently the right thing to say.

"Good." Cabbie huffed then settled down back down on his tires. "It is best to remember just how far down you are in ICS pecking order you really are. Fire bosses are some of the most experienced specialist aircraft of the planet. Most of them have forgotten more information than you have even started to learn. They also tend to be working with a bigger picture of the situation. If you fail to follow their orders over an active fire there is the very real risk of causing an in air collision. Though, that particular fact should have been pounded into you at Piston Peak." The older plane eyed the racer, who was currently trying not to shake on his pontoons. "Well enough talk, let's go find the jumpers and see what we can do about ditching your pontoons."

"The jumpers are here?"

"What did I just say?" Cabbie said with an exasperated eye roll as he headed across the tarmac.


	3. Evacuations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, concussions and computers are a very bad combination. I am still recovering from one so my updates will be slow, but they should be faster than they have the last couple of months. Thanks for bearing with me on that and without any further delay, let's jump back into the story.

When Cabbie had said that there were jumpers here, he hadn't specified which smokejumpers…though the look on Dusty's face must have clearly indicated his confusion at seeing five ground pounders in various liveries. The C-119 had burst into laughter. The old plane still hadn't managed to catch his breath when Dusty spotted to familiar faces detach themselves from the swarm and head over to say hello.

"CHAMP! WE DIDN'T KNOW THAT YOU WOULD BE HERE." Avalanche grinned up at Dusty with Blackout not too far behind him."

"I didn't know I was going to be here until about four this morning." The racer couldn't help but grin back. "It is good to see you all. Where is the rest of the crew?"

"BACK IN CALIFORNIA I THINK." Avalanche shrugged his blade. "CABBIE, WHERE ARE THE REST OF THE PISTON PEAK JUMPERS?"

"Last time they called they were working a couple of fires out of LA." The plane answered off-handed as he nudged a can of low-grade oil towards Dusty.

"You guys don't always work as a team?" The SEAT asked, taking a sip.

"A SMOKEJUMPER IS A SMOKEJUMPER IN THE EYES OF THE IC." Avalanche said with pride. "RIGHT NOW THERE ARE VEHICLES FROM 3 OF THE 10 SMOKEJUMPER TEAMS IN NORTH AMERICA."

"What he isn't telling you is that you got stuck with the dregs of the barrel?" A crawl loader in orange interjected.

"The 'dregs'?" Dusty looked blankly at the little dirt movers in hopes that they would clarify the term.

"What Arlo is saying is that we have a composite jump team." Cabbie explained kindly, and when Dusty continued to give a glazed look. "When it comes to wildland firefighters, smokejumpers are as elite as they come. They are an IC's best chance for preventing a small fire in rugged terrain from blowing up into something bigger. The problem is, there are not many smokejumper teams to work with. So when we get hit by a really bad fire season they tend to get sent to the four winds. Sometimes there are enough fires that they pull a couple of members from each team and send them to become a composite team."

"Almost everyone got trained at Missoula under the same instructors, so it isn't too much of a challenge to create a new team." Arlo grinned.

"Why didn't haven't I heard of this before?"

"PROBABLY BECAUSE PISTON PEAKS AIR ATTACK TEAM WAS ALREADY CONSIDERED TO BE THE DREGS OF THE BARREL." Avalanche grinned bumping the crawler with his blade. Dusty winced, but Arlo for his part his squared his own blade and pushed back. Cabbie watched to two, then rolled his eyes. Obviously, this type of roughhousing was pretty normal.

"Well kid, I suggest that you get some sleep," Cabbie yawned, "cause we are probably going to be waking up before first light to start dumping these boys on fires."

After flying halfway across the country, Dusty thought it was a good suggestion.

* * *

The sun was getting low on the horizon when Lightning and Mater finally made it to Prescott…and while they were the motliest pair driving a herd of tractors they were far from the only ones. Entire swaths of the scrubby desert were being evacuated and the counties seat's fairgrounds were the only safe location for the herds, so stock from miles around had been driven into town and put into pens.

As Mater kept an eye on the tractors, Lightning filled out paperwork. Said paperwork too what felt like a small eternity and the sun was hanging low in the sky when they were finally able to head back. Unfortunately, the two vehicles ran into a roadblock shortly after they got onto Route 66. As car after car got sent back, Lightning and Mater inched their way to the front of the queue.

"Where are you headed?" A young looking police car asked when they arrived at the front.

"Radiator Springs." Lightning said, as though it was obvious. Because where else would the famous racer be going at this time of year, especially after dropping of a large head of tractors at an evacuation center.

"I am sorry, but there is a wildfire out there burning out of control. Right now we are trying to evacuate entire communities to keep them out of harm's way and Radiator Springs is on the evacuation list. So I can't let you pass." The police officer looked somewhat sheepishly at the race car. "My suggestion sir is to try to get a spot in a hotel room before they all fill up, and then wait. It will only be a matter of time before the rest of your town will roll in."

"Thank you for the information officer." Lightning said softly. As much as McQueen wanted to ignore the police car's instructions, the racer also knew that he was completely unequipped to face a wildfire. With a heavy heart, he turned back into town with his best friend intoe. All he could do now was pray that all of his friends would get out safely.

* * *

After Cabbie had gotten Dusty and the smokejumpers bedded down for the night, he headed back to the Incident Command center for the evening meeting. It was only a little after 10, but the base was remarkably quiet. It had been a long enough fire season that most of the airplanes tended to roust the moment as soon as the sun went down and even the smokejumpers were too tired to cause trouble. Only the command staff and the night dispatcher were moving at this time of day, and they were running on fumes and coffee.

As soon as Cabbie entered the C-119 moved to make a beeline for said coffee. Snatching to mug that he had claimed his first night on base, he filled it and headed over to the map table. Most of the command staff was already present, stifling yawns as they took a looked over the reports in front of them. They were not allowed to sit on their tires long because the Air Boss soon rolled in after he completed his last flight of the day.

"Good evening vehicles." The exhaustion could be heard in the planes, strong voice. "As you all know we have been dealing with extreme fire behavior for the last couple of days, but between the hard work of the ground and aircrews and a lot of cooperation from Mother Nature we have been able to keep the flames away from various communities. But it looks like Mother Nature has decided to be a bitch and raise her ugly head. The winds have shifted, the KBDI is letting us know that the vegetation out there is a dry as tinder, and Chrysler knows there is no way that we are going to be able to protect these small towns if the fire blows right over them."

"So what are we going to do?" A tug, one of the dispatchers, asked.

"Well," the Air Boss motioned his wing towards the map, "we choose our battles carefully. We don't have enough aircraft and there are not enough teams on the ground to stop this fire in its tracks. The winds are strong enough that the sparks would just jump the line. Instead, we are just going to have to focus on keeping evacuation paths clear, watching the backs of the men on the ground, and attempting to protect sensitive habitats and buildings of historical importance. Understood?"

There was a chorus of "Yes Sirs."

"Good, now everyone who isn't on the night shift, I want you to go hit the hay. We are going to have a series of incredibly long days and I want all of you to be as fresh as possible."

With that order the majority of vehicles filtered out of the space, leaving the night crew and a very large cargo plane behind.

"Good, Cabbie, I needed to speak to you." The Air Boss spoke and the cargo plane rolled in expecting to chat about the load of supplies he was scheduled to pick up in Los Angeles this evening. Instead, the small plane looked him levelly in the eye. "I can still send him home you know." There was no cruelty in the words; instead, Sawyer spoke with quiet honesty. "Just because your team trained him, you don't have to keep him to save face. We are short staffed, but we are not that short staffed."

Cabbie snorted into his coffee. "Sawyer, you of all planes know that I don't put up with bullshit. Dusty may be greener than a willow sapling when it comes to firefighting, but he has time flying under 500 feet than any plane I know, he has nerves of steel, and he has got a brain on him. Which is a dodge good combination if you ask me." Cabbie took a glump of the bitter, firehouse brew. "Dusty will make a good Fire Boss someday, but that is going to require some seasoning. Seasoning that requires being out on the line."

"Still, I don't like to put someone with so little experience on the point of a firestorm."

"Well, it wouldn't be his first firestorm." Cabbie gave a ruthful chuckle thinking back on the Great Piston Peak Fire. "But, I can see where you are coming from. Still, remember you are not putting him out solo. You are pairing him with an aircraft that has a legacy number."

"And you vouched for his flying." The Air Bosses propeller twitched a bit at the reminder. "So I am just going to have to trust you on this and I better let you head out and pick up the equipment we need before it gets too late." The smaller plane gave the old cargo plane a wink. "Are you sure that you don't need your spotter for your cargo flight to LA?"

"Naw, we have to let the beginners get their sleep after all." Cabbie shrugged his wings, a wicked grin on his face. "After all, Dusty will have to keep up with me all tomorrow."

* * *

Just after dark, everyone in Radiator Springs gathered at the firehouse to listen to the evening fire report. Each vehicle shifted nervously as the disembodied voice on the radio described where the wildland firefighters were already deployed and where the hotspots that the IC was watching were. Then they were given the weather report, which caused both Red and Sherriff to rock back on their wheels. There was a dry front bearing down on them and their region was given a Red Flag warning for high winds.

While the rest of the vehicles in the room didn't fully understand how dire the news about the winds was, they did understand the next piece of news. Radiator Springs was one of the towns that was ordered to evacuate. Eyes full of fear each of the vehicles turned Red for acknowledgment. Under their gaze, the fire truck recognized the full weight of his responsibility. This town trusted him with their lives.

Closing he eyes, he thought about their options. Radiator Springs didn't have the greatest evacuation; as a result it would be a grueling race against the flames to get everyone out to safety in time. But that was something that the town already knew. Even when they were dirt poor, the town had made sure that they had kept their firefighting equipment in top form. Then there was the spring. Radiator Spring was situated on a water source that wouldn't run dry regardless of how much Red pumped from it.

Red glanced over at Lizzie, had made a judgment call. It would be better to face down the flames where they had the water and infrastructure to stare down the flames instead of risking being trapped on an open stretch of road where he would have no hydrants to refill his tanks from. So as much as it pained him, the Quint made a judgment call and ignored the order to evacuate. The town of Radiator Springs was going to shelter in place.

 


End file.
